Like a Family
by MangoRamune
Summary: Based on Harvest Moon: Back to Nature.A more dark/realistic take on Mineral Town and the community, set several generations after the game.
1. Prologue

* Because this fanfiction is set so far in the future, none of the characters will be from the actual game. However, if you are familiar with Back to Nature or Friends of Mineral Town, you will notice which characters are descendants or representatives of the original characters.

As with my one other story, I will say once and only once, here in the first chapter, that I have zero part in or ownership of Harvest Moon: Back to Nature. It is copyrighted to Natsume.

* * *

Winter always felt like a good season for me and my boy. It was quiet, the snow bounced the light of the moon everywhere, until the whole island seemed to glow silver. There had been a blizzard some days back, but tonight it was silent. If I lifted my ears, I could hear anything I wanted. The chickens rustled and clucked quietly in the coop at the far end of the field. The cows and sheep were asleep, but there was still an occasional bleat or moo from the younger members of the barn. In the distance, I could hear the nickering of horses from the farm about two miles down. My mate and some of my puppies were there, watching over the boy who would one day own that farm. Jin and Tess were much closer, dancing their horse dance at the far end of the field before they settled down for the evening. There were no crops to tend, the pond was frozen, and the snow made the whole field look smooth and even. The animals in the woods had all gone to sleep for the winter, save the occasional white rabbit. In that cold world, devoid of the rich smells of the other seasons, all the scents I caught were of home.

"Rosemary," my boy called. "Dinner."

I looked over my shoulder. My heart swelled at the sight of him, lithe and fit and dark-eyed and dark-haired. I had been with my boy since I was a year old, and I was nearly eight now. I loved him more than anything. Many of the villagers called him Daniel now, because he was a man, but to me he would always be Danny. My Danny. Of course, I couldn't just tell him that. I was female, disciplined, and maybe a bit coy. I didn't let my tail wag until he came up with my dish full of stew and sat it before me. Fish and vegetables and bits of rabbit meat swirled in a thin broth that I devoured. Danny rarely ate the same thing every day, but this was the taste of winter to me.

Winter was routine, which might have been why I loved it so much. Danny would tend to the animals in the morning, maybe let them out if wasn't too cold, and right after lunchtime he would have me herding them back inside the barns. We would visit my mate and puppies and their boy, and then we would go into the woods to fish. That was it. All the rest of the day, we would sit by the river and hope we caught a good dinner. Danny never needed to chop wood, because he would stock up on it in the seasons we didn't need it. He never went mining, because his tools were well cared for and he had no other use for ore. He would fish with me, and we would come home. He ate, then made my meal, and sat beside me until I was done.

We would sit together on the steps, and he would rub my ears with his calloused hands that used to be the soft hands of a boy. I was probably the only one on the island who knew what his hands felt like without gloves.

I whined softly as I finished my dinner, and scooted closer to him, so I could lay my head on his lap. I was sorry. I didn't mean to pretend it was really the food I was looking forward to. It was just a joke. Danny was my master, my trainer, and he was in charge of feeding me, but he was also my boy. How could I ever hide how much I loved him?

He laughed and rolled a cigarette for himself. "Aren't you getting too old to act like that, Rosie?"

I snorted softly, and nudged his hands until he obliged by petting me. The cigarette smoke started to rise shortly after. It was pungent in the scentless winter air, but I was used to it. It was typical of a winter night for Danny to smoke and watch the stars with me at his side. How could any dog be happier?

My ears flicked toward a sound in the night, and Danny came out of his trance. He was watching my face, alert because I was suddenly alert. Our calm was gone, and I dashed from the porch, only to skid to a distressed stop at the fence. I paced anxiously and looked back at my boy.

Hurry Danny, I barked. Hurry hurry.

Other dogs were barking in the distance, and Danny skipped lacing up his boots to follow me down to the town. Seven years of farm work gave Danny the endurance to run the first mile, but he was wheezing by the time we arrived. I looked around. We were at the good place. The other humans in town got together and did happy things together at this place. They made foods and danced and played there. The mothers gathered there in good weather to gossip. My tail wanted to wag, but the smell was there. I trotted over to the benches, and Danny followed me. There was a familiar smell there, under the bad smell.

"Leila?"

The old woman didn't look up. She was a tiny, fragile thing despite the layers of wool protecting her from the cold. She touched a gloved hand to my head.

"Young man," she said sternly. "Where are your clothes?"

Danny looked down at overalls. They were all he was wearing. He blushed. "Sorry, I was rushing. Rosemary doesn't spook easily, so I panicked."

"Well, of course you did, but you shouldn't come running half naked for every old woman in the snow. Goodness, you didn't even tie your shoelaces. Wouldn't make a bit of sense for a boy like you to risk falling or catching your death of cold for an old biddy like me, Danny." She chuckled, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. "You've always been like this."

"I..." He paled. "Were you...crying?"

Leila kept her eyes on me, and gently stroked my neck. "That isn't something you should ask a lady."

My boy looked hurt, but he didn't say anything; Leila was old and had a lot to cry about. "It's late. You should be at home. The girls will worry about you."

"Undoubtedly. I wanted to journey to the peak of Mother's Hill… so no one would see me like this." She smiled up at the sky. "Perhaps if the moon had not been so wondrous tonight."

"If you want to go to Mother's Hill, I'll walk you there tomorrow night."

She chuckled and leaned back. "Honestly, Danny…"

"Don't laugh. You know I wouldn't lie."

"No…You're such a sweet boy…You wouldn't…"

The moment I knew was coming arrived. She died with no warning, and Danny picked her up and put her on his back before he realized she wasn't breathing. I could see it on his face that he knew. He knew she had come here to die, just like I did. The women of that family were prone to a sickness that made them weak, and Leila had had it, just like her grandmother had. It was a wonder she had lived as long as she did. I started to howl, but Danny shushed me, and started walking back. I could hear him whispering in the cold as we approached her home.

"No one loved Mineral Town more than you, old woman. No one…"

If I were human, I might have understood what he was really saying. I would have been able hear it for what it was.

_In all of Mineral Town, no one meant more to me than you, old woman Leila. No one…_


	2. Winter Chapter 1

Old woman Leila was the second eldest member of the town, and easily the most loved. There was not a soul on the island that didn't come to her funeral, even though Danny demanded she be buried at the peak of Mother's Hill. He had promised, after all, and her death did not change that. The pastor was kind enough to allow it with the permission of the remaining family: Leila's two granddaughters, Peony and Perilla. Both knew Danny well enough from his visits and from being his closest neighbors, and allowed her the non-standard burial site.

Danny bore her up the hill himself, with occasional assistance on the steeper or slicker parts of the climb. She was not buried at the peak since they held major events there, but at the bend in the path, just above the clearing where windmills stood for several years now. In summer, it would be a in a shady little spot just off the path, unobtrusive but definitely present. There, in the dead of winter, the freshly filled grave was obvious and the marker seemed terribly lonely. He didn't cry_—_he found he couldn't even though so many other people were_—_but he stayed long after everyone else finally descended Mother's Hill.

For him, her death left winter deeply interrupted. He kept up his morning routine, but once the animals were taken care of, he often wandered to Mother's Hill. Danny never visited the grave. He stood at the peak and watched the town instead.

In those quiet moments, he came to understand that he no longer knew the reason he should stay in Mineral Town. His father had lived here when his grandfather returned to the city. He hadn't liked it here as a child, so he hadn't stayed, but when his father got too old for farming, he took on the job and sent his father back to the city. It was a peculiar cycle. He had scarcely been twelve upon his arrival. His father showed him what to do, and left when he was sixteen. In the time since, there were few people he'd truly bonded with. One had been old woman Leila.

He'd lived in Mineral town for seven years, but it was a place of so many strangers to him. He was friendly, and the townspeople were friendly right back, but his city ways kept him away from the circles of gossip or anything that could be considered prying. He knew everyone by their job or their reputation...but the people he knew beyond those things, or those that knew him so well could be counted on one hand.

At night he came home, made Rosemary's food, and flopped into bed, sometimes without eating his own dinner. He worried himself, and he could tell he worried Rosemary, but slowly he began to clear up. Habit outweighed grief, and he returned to his schedule, but sometimes he found himself chain smoking, and staring across his snow covered field with little on his mind, and even less in his heart.

It had been just shy of three weeks when he finally came back to what could vaguely be called normality for him, when he received a visit.

"Evenin' Dan."

"Same to you, Briar."

Danny moved over, and Rosemary shuffled to do the same.

Briar was a younger lad, and his sister Jasmine ran the town library, in as much as she could be expected to. He often visited Danny's, otherwise he may have ended up like his sister, who probably hadn't been down from her first high yet. Briar was a good worker; a straight-laced, responsible type. He loved children, and wanted to be a teacher full-time, but keeping the library in some form of order just so the town wouldn't gossip too much about his sister demanded a few days of his attention per week. Sometimes, when she had particularly bad days, it demanded more.

In winter, when there wasn't much to do, and school was conducted only once a week on Sundays, Briar would sometimes stroll by late at night and sit with Danny. They never spoke about anything heavy during those nights, but it was painfully obvious there was something heavy of the kid's mind. But as often as not, Briar would leave after an hour or two without saying what it was. It seemed that just being in Danny's presence could do something that kept him from falling apart.

The boy probably thought of Danny as an older brother. Danny, in turn, thought of Briar as a hard-pressed kid tossed into what counted as adulthood in Mineral Town at a really bad time.

Tonight the tables were turned. Briar sat down, and didn't even pretend to be focused on anything but Danny.

"How you holdin' up?"

"Better." He sent a cloud of smoke into the air without a sound. "I miss her."

"Yeah... Pretty sure the only other person who loved her even half as much as you was Peony." He reached over, fondly ruffling Rosemary's fur. "And maybe Rosie, here."

Danny kept his gaze on the empty field, the tip of his cigarette rhythmically glowing and dimming between thick curls of smoke. "You know," he finally said. "I did a lot of thinking since she died. I think... I think I'm going to leave."

There was a pause. Danny could just make out the expression of panic the boy was trying to hide. "You would take me with you, wouldn't you?"

"You're a man. Go where you want."

"I don't know anything but this island, Dan. You've _lived_ in a city. It's natural I'd want to follow you and learn a little."

"Teachin' on the mainland isn't like it is here, Briar. If you go, go on your own, and see if you like it or not. Besides..." He ground his cigarette out on the sole of his boot and lit another. "I'm not going anywhere immediately. I'm going to make the effort to see what Leila saw. You know how it was. She thought Mineral Town was the next best place from heaven. So I'm going to make the effort. See it the way she did, if I can."

Briar didn't answer, and Danny slumped forward, puffing cigarette smoke between his knees. "Know what's funny?"

"Hm?"

"When I went up there the first time, to Mother's Hill, to see her grave, all I could think was 'There's no one who'll call me Danny anymore.' Any idea why that's hurting me so much?"

Briar reached over and gave Danny a rough pat on the back. "You have one hell of a mother complex, you sick bastard."

Danny snorted laughter despite himself. Briar knew when to use the jokes. He reached out and gave the obligatory punch on the arm, and the obligatory curse, but he didn't look up. God, the last thing he needed was to let Briar see him crying. The kid would be freaking out for days. He made sure his face was clear before he sat back up, but by then Briar was no longer paying attention. He was looking toward the path.

Perilla was paying them a visit.

As a matter of coincidence, Danny knew Perilla. If there had been a way to visit Leila without ever having met Perilla, Danny would've been glad to do it. He disliked Perilla. She wanted so badly to be from the main land. She dressed like a city girl, tried to act like a city girl, and he was sure that she aspired to the kind of life that could only thrive in clubs and college settings; up to and including using the possibility of her body as a bargaining tool.

She was no real threat to him, because hitting puberty in the city gave him just enough smarts to know an openly poisonous woman when he saw one. The problem was Briar. He was accustomed to girls like Perilla's twin sister Peony; girls who were wholesome and sweet to the point of naivete, who relied on feminine wiles for things that were, in the end, innocent. Girls like Peony batted their eyelashes so you'd help them carry groceries. Girls like Perilla overexposed so you'd do whatever the hell they asked you to. Briar had no experience, and because he was sixteen, he had no resistance. He had a crush on a certain girl he wouldn't name even to Danny, but Perilla wasn't a crush. She was a temptation in a dress that reminded Danny of an iconic well-endowed blonde on some brand of beer he could no longer remember the name of.

"Good evening, Briar, Daniel."

Danny reached over and clipped Briar on the chin to remind him to close his mouth.

"Perilla." He might have used the same tone if he had been approached by a wild dog that wasn't yet showing aggression. "What brings you here?"

"There's something I'd like to ask you. Briar, would you excuse us?"

Danny felt Briar's eyes darting between him and Perilla. Even if he was a stupid teenager, he knew there was nothing a girl had to say to a man at his home in those clothes after dark when nearly everyone was asleep. Especially not in this town, where that alone could be a huge scandal. He knew it, and he was nearly hyperventilating, as though she said it was _him_ she wanted to talk to.

When Danny glanced at him, he got up and all but ran inside.

As soon as he was gone, Perilla sat his spot, and snuggled up nice and close. Danny saw what was coming. The girl was only sixteen, and yet if anything happened, the main scandal would be that they weren't married. Adulthood came way too soon out here. He decided a pre-emptive strike would be good.

"No," he said firmly. "Stop rubbing your tits on my arm because you don't really have much. Get away from me, because you smell like you've been hanging out with Jasmine, and no. Whatever you're going to ask me will be answered with no."

"Good," she purred. "Saves me the trouble asking. You don't have a girl in mind, you don't prefer my sister over me, and you don't mind marrying me."

Danny had no comeback to that. He couldn't even appreciate how smoothly she had turned the tables on him. The last part had stunned him too much. "What?"

"Well the Poultry farm is up for grabs now. Peony will probably be an old maid the way she works herself for it, but I'd rather just marry a man and have him do it for me."

"Am I your first option?"

She smiled suggestively. "You're my only option."

He didn't say anything. His mouth curled up into an honest grin and he laughed in her face, unable to contain it even as the sudden burst made his gut ache and brought tears to the corners of his eyes.

"D..Dan?"

"Oh, man..." He caught her expression, and wiped his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you actually being serious there? Cause that was a terrible come-on on the tail of a genuinely stupid idea. I mean, it's a bitch move even for you."

She leaned back as though he'd slapped her in the face. In Mineral Town, men rarely swore in front of women, or at them. Less as a matter of chivalry, and more as a matter of the respect they commanded. Leila would have caned him black and blue, but Perilla had a way of making Danny throw away his well-learned manners.

"If I really wanted Poultry Farm, I could buy it. You know that. My only expenses in the past few years have been supermarket food and occasional visits to the junk shop and the clinic. I wouldn't have to go through you, and that's exactly why you're here. I'm not your 'only' option. I'm just the one with enough money to get you off this island. Then you'll run away, and find someone better." He smiled. "Isn't that right, little girl?"

She stood up, her face red with a mix of embarrassment and rage. That was the one thing she hated, more than anything. "I'm not a little girl! I'm a lady!"

"No, I don't think so. Ladies cover what meager cleavage they have in the dead of winter, don't you think?"

"I can wear what I want, Danny!"

He felt a surge of unpleasant, cloying heat go through his chest, and he grit his teeth so hard his cigarette split. He spat it out, stood up, and glared down at her. Maybe his expression had something dark and dangerous to it, because her façade vanished and she was just a scared little country girl playing dress up. "Don't you _ever_ let me hear that name come out of your mouth again, do you hear me? I'm not some boy thinking with his dick, and I'm not going to provide you an out. You want off the island? Work for it your fucking self. Now get off my land, and don't come back. You are no longer welcome here."

She ran away, and Briar slowly crept outside with the creaking of the screen door. They watched her disappear in a direction that wouldn't take her home.

"Where is she going?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. God, you'd think she'd at least hold off in this kind of shit until the season had passed. Come on. It's late and I don't want you wandering home with her in town. Take the spare bed."

Briar bit his lip, but he followed Danny inside.


	3. Winter Chapter 2

Rosemary was barking wildly, and about ready to bite her way through the door.

Most of the village was outside, disrupting the morning air just beyond his porch and yelling for him to come out. There were no pitchforks or torches involved, but Gene was there, and that meant it was serious. There were no real police on the island, and the only law enforcer had died shortly after Danny took up farm life. Nobody had yet replaced him in official title, but Gene was the unofficial heavy hand of the island. The logger was the only person who might be able to contend with Gene hand to hand. If he was there, that meant they were expecting Danny to put up a fight.

Briar peeked through the blinds in what he probably thought was a furtive manner. "What are you gonna do?"

Danny ruffled his hair, sternly shushed Rosemary, lit a cigarette, and looked through the blinds. He smiled to himself. Not everyone was in the crowd.

"That's obvious," he finally answered to Briar. "I'm going to go see what the good citizens of Mineral Town want with little old me, and then..." He pointed Perilla out where she stood safely in the center of the herd. "I'm going to have words with them about her. Because I bet this is her doing."

"Dan, it might be true that she's the nastiest girl on the island, but... if you say so, the villagers will take it as an insult to the whole town!"

"Oh, so propriety comes before the truth? But there's always so much gossip. This place is more like the city than I thought."

Danny stepped out without fear or reserve, and Briar followed instinctively, taking care to shut Rosemary inside. The noise level of the villagers grew, and Danny calmly, pensively blew smoke into the heavy morning air. He made a mental side note that it would snow this evening.

"Shut up!" he snarled suddenly. "You'll spook my animals!"

The silence was instant. Danny had never raised his voice at anyone, so far as any of them knew. Many of them were either shocked or awed, but four people came forward none the less. Perilla was among them. She was crying.

_How touching, _Danny though, stifling an urge to roll his eyes.

The other female of that small group was Jasmine, Briar's sister who spent her days smoking or eating who knew what kind of plants behind the library and sometimes getting into very philosophical conversations with the books. Once upon a time, she was a brilliant botanist, but that had taken a turn that brought her to where she was now. She was never quite lucid, but associated with Perilla on friend-like terms. On Perilla's other side, holding a protective arm around her, was Ace. Ace was one of the three blacksmith brothers. Aden was his twin, and Rondo was their eldest brother. Danny didn't know much about Ace, but his association with Perilla and Jasmine didn't look good on his resume.

Mayor Adrien was the last person standing with Perilla, and he looked terrible.

"Daniel," Gene said gravely. "Leila was buried not even a month ago, and yet you do this."

"Well, thank goodness the accusation's not too obvious or anything. _This_ sounds pretty scandalous, whatever it is."

Maybe his joke didn't tickle Jasmine, because she suddenly screamed. "You raped her!"

Danny didn't bat a lash. He could feel himself scowling, but he somehow managed to keep a sarcastic, almost jaunty tone to his voice. "Wow, that _is_ scandalous. Thanks for actually asking if I did it though. Really makes me feel the town solidarity."

"Daniel didn't rape Perilla," Briar defended. "Never laid a hand on her."

"You're his best friend, Briar. We'd like to believe you, but we can't take your word on this."

Danny shrugged. "That's fair. Does no one else have faith in my good character?"

Ace spoke, as the obligatory voice of doubt. "I can't trust someone who's lived here so long and yet keeps himself holed up here on his farm so much that no one knows him."

Danny's cigarette glowed hot as he sucked in sharply. "Just because Leila's dead doesn't make her 'no one'. She knew me. Briar knows me. Hell, if this is the route you're going to take, why not go ostracize the wind farm family living halfway up Mother's hill? They don't show up much either."

Mayor Adrien's face had gotten progressively more miserable, and Danny met his eyes. They both knew Danny was innocent, they both knew Perilla was seedy, and they both knew that unfortunately Adrien was mayor, so he couldn't speak up for Danny. But that was okay. Danny felt fine just knowing that in another life, where Adrien didn't have the responsibility to be impartial, he'd have spoken the truth. Here, as mayor, he would lose no matter what, because someone from his town was going to be the villain when they were done here.

"What happened here last night?" he asked somberly.

"Perilla dropped by while me and Briar were having a man to man," Danny answered. "Said she wanted to talk to me."

"Briar, is this true?"

"Yes, sir." He glanced at Danny. If he said it, Danny wouldn't have to. "It was really late, sir, so I didn't leave them by too far. I made sure I saw everything."

Adrien silenced Briar with a raise of his hand, and signaled Danny to continue.

"Perilla asked if I wanted to marry into the Poultry farm." He waited for the gasps, growls, and other assorted reactions to fade. "Of course, I turned her down. If I wanted that farm, I could buy it."

"After that?"

"She had a rather upsetting reaction, so I told her that she wasn't welcome on my property. I kept Briar here, because she didn't go right home."

"Bullshit," Ace growled. "You kept him so he'd cover for you."

"I kept him because I didn't want him in town at the same time as a girl who visits men after hours."

A small group of people separated themselves from the crowd. Among them was Priest Dorian, the other two blacksmith brothers, and Farrah, the supermarket girl; people who knew him as a good customer, maybe a good source for a little extra work or a special-request crop, but not much else.

"We believe him," Farrah said, with her hands planted on her hips.

Ace shouted at his brothers, but they stared back at him with nothing but disappointment. They thought it was all obvious by now. Danny turned his attention on the one person who hadn't said anything the entire time. He had fully expected her to be the first to run up in his defense.

"Peony," he called. "What do you think?"

She looked away so quickly that her braided twin-tails whipped her face. "Perilla is my sister. I won't go against her for someone who secludes himself on his farm."

That hurt far more than he expected it to, and he had to make a conscious effort not to let the cigarette fall out of his mouth. He had visited Leila almost religiously as a young boy, and Peony was always there. Perilla was the only other person who might know him by how much he'd doted on Leila. It wasn't like he expected her to know his darkest secrets, but supporting him shouldn't have been so beyond her.

At least when Cecil came, it distracted him.

Cecil was orphaned by a typhoon as a kid, but he'd be the rightful heir to the Yodel Farm in two or three years. He'd refused to live at the church or with another family, so Gene took care of him. However, Danny was the one who taught him how to take care of livestock, and if any major financial decisions had to be made, Cecil always consulted with him.

"What took you so long?"

Cecil crossed his arms tidily. "You always tell me not to dive into anything without looking at the situation first."

Danny grinned. "That I do."

"We believe him too."

Danny tried to maintain a casual gaze as he saw Pepper and Largo step up. He wasn't sure whether or not he actually wanted to be backed by them. They were new to town, and even though they had no romantic interest in each other (or so they said) they still lived together, right above their appliance store. Scandal stories cropped up around them like aphids in a strawberry patch, and because the town didn't have much use for the newer brands of technology, they were regarded as owners of a junk shop. On the other hand, they kept an entire row of functional phones in their store, and they could fix anything from a toy car to the windmills on mother's hill.

Pepper, the only dark-skinned person on the island, and the ninth wonder of the world to most of the children, raised her thumb in Danny's direction. Mercifully, she didn't say anything about city-folk solidarity. She was good for sayings things like that.

"Thanks... Look, I have things to do, so I have an ultimatum for the rest of you. Bring Agatha and get her to say I did it, or go away."

The hush thickened so abruptly that even Perilla stopped crying and looked on in cold dread. Agatha was a woman older than Leila had lived to be, but still as spry as a spring chicken, and wicked about it. If the island had a witch in residence, it was Agatha. If a person couldn't cure what ailed them at the clinic, they went to look for the Old Nurse. Their health would be perfect when she was done, whether they liked the cure or not. She was how parents threatened children to eat their vegetables and bundle up properly in cold weather. She was the boogeyman, but she was experienced with the abnormalities of a human body, she was good at what she did, and she was very real.

"Why her?"

"Nurse Esther and Doc Sam aren't here. Strange, considering what I'm on town trial for. But I can believe they wouldn't have much experience with this anyway."

The crowd looked at Perilla. Her eyes were red, but she was dry-faced.

"You want to embarrass me some more? Is that it?! You want to have some old bat take a look for herself and tell you?!"

Danny raised an honestly perplexed eyebrow. "Uhh, yeah? Is that unfair? You brought the whole town out here, not me. We can toss the blame back and forth, but Agatha will give us some cold proof. If I really did it, there shouldn't be a problem with that, right?"

They stared at each other for several moments, but Danny knew he'd already won. Perilla looked away, and ran into town before anyone could realize she'd lied from the start.

Mayor Adrien breathed deeply. "We apologize. We never thought she'd lie like that…"

"Then at the very least, I know Perilla better than anyone else in this crowd. How's that for a shut in?"

A ripple of nervous laughter wafted through the crowd, and the stress of the morning began to dissipate. Gossip started up as the crowd dissipated, and all the members on his side waved and made triumphant gestures as they too dispersed. Only one person was trying to slip in with the rest of the crowd and disappear, but those pink pigtails made that near impossible.

"Peony."

She froze like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her eyes were wide, but not fearful. As Danny stepped down, Gene and Rondo blocked his way.

"I don't think you should do this," Gene warned. "You're clean, but you might agitate the situation."

"Then be the witnesses. Stand between us, make us face opposite directions, do whatever you have to, but I have something to say, and if I wait, I'll probably regret it."

They looked at each other, and nodded. Gene remained by Danny, and Rondo stood beside Peony, keeping them well out of reach of each other.

"Look at me," Danny commanded.

Peony's eyes wandered away from the ground and met his.

"Every single Sunday in summer and winter. Every single one, even when the weather was crap. Especially when the weather was crap. You were _always_ there. With Leila dead, you might be the only other person on the island who knows anything about what goes on in my head outside of Briar. You're a good girl, and I know you have this unbending filial love thing that Leila taught you, but you _know_ your sister just like I do. I think it's the least you could do to give me an explanation for why you just left me hanging."

Her chin wrinkled up, as she grimaced and tried to hold back whatever it was she was wrestling with. In the end, all she was able to give him was a miserable little whisper.

"I'm sorry… 'm so sorry, Danny…"

She stood there, wiping her eyes and sniffling in the cold air until Danny's shoulders slumped, and he allowed Gene and Rondo to escort her home.


	4. Winter Chapter 3

The next month of winter was a reclusive one for Danny, though it happened mostly by accident.

The first week had been a blur of chain-smoking and sulking over the way Peony had treated him—stupid, he knew, but he couldn't get over it. She had always been a kind of peripheral source of goodness when he went to the Poultry farm. Leila was unquestionably _T__he _reason. There had been a catastrophic typhoon shortly after his arrival; the worst in decades. Several homes had been destroyed and quite a few people died. One had been Leila's daughter, Lilian. Danny could no longer remember her living demeanor. When he thought of her, all he could recall was how she looked in her coffin and the silent, heartbroken tears Leila had cried while standing over her. He remembered thinking he had never seen anyone so damned sad, and somehow that turned into his visits. The more time passed, the happier those visits had become, and though he never thought about it much, Peony had always been there with him. Just another merry assistant for a woman who made them both feel at home.

Unknown to even himself, Peony had come to hold some kind of position in his heart, and it didn't allow him to forget the way she looked when she turned her eyes from him. Some mornings he would stand limply in the henhouse with the bag of chicken feed, in a fit of self-pity that he would come out of with a swear when a chicken eventually pecked him. At other times he would find himself in such a rage that even Rosemary would only lay down submissively if he came too close to her. He knew Peony well enough to know her sister had silenced her somehow. She was the only person aside from Briar who could legitimately defend him. Cecil was on his side, but slightly under-aged; old enough to involve himself in the problems of adults but too young to have his word be taken seriously. Esther might know what the problem was. She was like the sister that Peony should have had, but he was a rare customer at the clinic where Esther worked. The chance that she would just tell him if he just strolled in and asked what Perilla might use to blackmail Peony was too low.

The roller coaster rolled on, but by the end of the week his rage was a low burn and his sulk was just sighs.

The following three weeks of his life as a recluse weren't quite so self-imposed. He had ventured into town for groceries, wine, and a stop by the Blacksmith shop for a few pre-spring repairs, and had regretted it instantly.

Aya, the winery woman, had stopped in her tracks in reaction to his entry, and he had immediately stopped in his so as not to alarm her. To her credit, she'd attempted to be friendly, and had not shown any of the fear that suggested she might think the worst of him. His presence had simply confused her. She didn't know how to talk to him anymore, even though he was just a customer. For her benefit, he had avoided sighing, made his purchase without trying to make small talk, and left with quiet but polite words.

The journey through the rest of the town had been similarly awkward. His appearance on the street instantly split the residents into two groups. Even though Perilla had been proven a liar, there were still those who thought he was a reclusive freak just waiting to display his worst natures. He hadn't wanted to prove that group right, but he couldn't deal with the other sect of townspeople who suddenly had it in their minds that he was just some late blooming shy guy that hadn't been able to find his social niche in town. He had wanted to be low profile in the name of not stirring up any rumors, and unfortunately a lot of the people who suddenly wanted to help him fit in were women. So he stopped going into town.

When he went anywhere at all that month, he did it with Briar, and of those five or six journeys, most of them were to go see Cecil at the Yodel Farm. He didn't so much as glance at the Poultry Farm when they passed it, even if the girls were outside. Peony would freeze and stand there looking penitent as he passed, and Perilla would storm off like a petulant child. He couldn't deal with either of them, or the air in the town. On the way back, he was usually alone, and he found that he rushed if someone was outside. He only wanted to go home, where there was a dog who wagged her tail unwaveringly, a mare as demanding as a nagging wife, and a clumsy, mischievous foal who was developing what seemed to be a wicked sense of humor. At least there, things were the same.

The only thing other thing that had managed to stay the same were his retreats up to Mother's Hill at absurd hours of night. It became a part of his ritual, even though he had been trying to stop going so frequently. Passing Leila's grave had not become easier, but he still refused to stop there. He climbed to the very top, always. He had to look at the town she loved and not the place where her body rested. And yet, he found himself hesitating some nights. He wanted to stand in front of her, and talk to her, but he also wanted her to answer. Knowing she wouldn't kept him away.

On the final night of his reclusive stint, the sky was clear, the air was crisp, and Danny climbed Mother's Hill more slowly than usual. Ten o clock had yet to feel like a late hour to him, but he felt sluggish. His feet moved because they knew the way, but every step seemed to take forever, and his eyes were not quite focused on his path. Even rhythmic change from warm to cold as he inhaled and exhaled into his scarf seemed slow and hypnotic. It was the weight of routine that he often felt in winter, when there was little to do after noon. His mind was no longer on the real reason he came to Mother's Hill night after night; its' way of saying that he didn't need to go. He started to turn around, being the sensible type who could take a hint from himself. He would have gone straight home, if not for the girl in the snow.

She was slightly mismatched in her style of dress. She had an over-sized winter coat that piled up where it met the snow while her legs extended somewhere below. The fuzziest scarf he had ever seen was wrapped around her neck and face and on her head was a big floppy straw hat. He suspected she was the Wind Farm's little girl. It was the only place she could have come from, and she was staring up at the slow churn of a massive wind turbine. He would have been perfectly within his rights to keep going. The path down Mother's Hill was far enough away from the three turbines that he could have walked on by and she might never have noticed him, but he knew a child out at this hour was in trouble if somebody else wandered up.

"You're wearing the wrong hat," he said just loudly enough to be heard.

She turned, and Danny saw orange braids fly into her face. Her response was loud, bold, and unafraid. "This is my favorite hat!"

He sniffed. "What are you doing out here? It's late."

"I was watching it turn. Mama knows I'm here, and as long as I bundle up and stay where I can see the front windows, I don't get in trouble."

Danny squinted. She was either older than he thought and a runt for her age, or this girl's mother was a lot looser on regulation than the town parents. It might make sense elsewhere, but this was Mother's Hill. There were things that might think of such a small human girl as a meal. He looked at the windows of the Wind Farm. The lights were all off, but the window was cracked open downstairs. Somebody was home, and Danny had the sudden eerie feeling that his entire exchange with this girl was being closely watched by the barrel of a gun.

"Autonomy under strict protection," he muttered. "He'll kneecap me if I even sneeze threateningly won't he?"

"Of course not. Papa is down in the woods on herb duty this week. Mama is home, and she only shoots at the wild dogs that come too close."

"Do I count as a wild dog?"

"Of course not. You're a person. …Well, there was that guy in the raincoat, but he was shifty. That's what Mama says."

Danny couldn't help a smile. Kids. "What's your name?"

She grinned. "I won't tell. You're the mister who climbs Mother's Hill every night, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me, and you're the Wind Farm girl."

"Of course I am. Why are you stopping here anyway, mister? Aren't you having a romantic evening tonight?" When Danny seemed confused, she sighed impatiently. "You're keeping your girlfriend waiting. She went up almost thirty minutes ago."

"What girlfriend?"

The girl's face went surprisingly red, and she stamped her foot so hard that she actually sank a few inches into the snow. "The pink-haired one! Tonight is the Star Night festival, and you're keeping her waiting! You're not cool at all!"

She left Danny stunned in the snow, and returned to her home seemingly stripped of whatever pleasure it brought her to stare are the whirring of the turbines.

His next step was purposeful, and there was none of the haziness of routine in it. He didn't run, but his strides were long and his breath streamed out. He had no idea why Peony would be here. There had to be someone she had invited her to dinner if it was really the Star Night festival. He couldn't imagine there weren't little romances all around the town, even if he wasn't entirely aware of them. The blacksmith brothers were all handsome, unmarried types, though Rondo was a bit on the older side. Maybe someone like Esther, who was the oldest 'young girl' in the village would be good for him. There was Doc Sam, Briar, and maybe even Largo had been invited somewhere... Or was spending his night in with Pepper. Danny shook his head. None of that mattered in the slightest. He wasn't going to miss this opportunity. He had her alone, and he was going to ask her again, where Perilla couldn't see or hear. Why she had denied him so swiftly and then cried so repentantly over it? What had she done for Perilla to be able to reduce her to that?

He rounded the corner, lost sight of the wind farm, and saw a slim figure in a snow white coat standing before the grave. He came to a near immediate halt as their eyes met.

She pulled back her hood. The look in her eyes was somber. Danny marched up to her, fully intent on raising hell, but she pressed a finger to her own lips, and turned back to her grandmother's grave.

"She'll roll in her grave if we start fighting in front of it," she said quietly.

"Like she hasn't already done back flips after the crap you pulled," Danny snorted. "What are you doing here, Perilla?"

She shrugged softly. "You act like she wasn't the person who raised me. Our mother—"

"Same typhoon that killed Cecil's parents. I know."

"Oh, no jokes about how the event must've changed my personality and made me what I am?"

"I arrived very shortly before that storm, and while I don't remember you being such a brat, I don't believe in those kinds of lame excuses. A lot of people died that day, but everyone dealt with it differently. Peony didn't turn into a self-serving, manipulative, city tramp wanna-be."

She treated him to a hot glare. "How we do things is different, but you're thinking the same thing I've been thinking since that typhoon, so don't you dare judge me. You don't know what you're doing here anymore, and you want to leave."

"So I do," Danny admitted coolly.

"So why didn't you say yes to me?"

"First, you're nasty. I mean don't-discuss-in-civil-conversation dirty. I feel like I'm getting something sticky on me just being near you. You practice it intentionally, and I find your lack of self-respect disturbing."

She rolled her eyes. "Takes a man to make a Star wars joke in this kind of atmosphere..."

"Second," he continued. "I dislike you too much to provide you that easy way out. You want to run from it, and I admit, so do I, but I'm not going to until I put some time and effort into seeing why your grandmother loved it here, and if I can see it I'm not going anywhere. Hell, I may actually get over my intense dislike of how young the girls considered 'of marriageable age' are and settle down."

"The gap is five years at the widest and two at the shortest, you coward. In the city isn't it normal for a couple to—" She glanced at the grave. "—to have sex even if they're both teenagers?"

"It's one thing to be a horny teenager; it's another entirely to bind another person to you for life while they're still young and stupid."

Perilla didn't respond to that, and they both stood silently in front of Leila's grave. If it was possible to catch her in a moment where her guard was down, the absence of Perilla's belligerence made it easier to at least stand with her without wanting to punch her. That much was about all Danny knew of the Perilla that might be underneath her atrocious attitude and worse reputation. He'd seen it once before when he'd come out of the mines and spied her sitting near the stream with Peony. Hidden by the falls, but deaf to the conversation because of them, he'd watched a bleary-eyed Perilla share something with her sister. Whatever it was had shocked Peony. He had never seen her argue so heatedly about anything, and hadn't ever seen it again. At the end of the argument, Perilla had held herself together as though she might disappear if she didn't, and he had seen her shoulders shake violently. Peony, who had perhaps been feeling the way everyone else did about Perilla at the moment, couldn't find it in her to comfort her sister, but she remained by her side. It was all that could really be done, because Perilla never apologized for anything. Here she was talking to a man she'd accused of raping her in front of the entire community, knowing from the start that he hadn't and wasn't that kind of guy, and while she might regret the way it had backfired on her, being sorry had probably not even crossed her mind. But she was human too, and sometimes she had her weak moments. Being outright comforted might be too much for her, but she had the sense to shut up in the hopes that someone would at least stand beside her.

It gave Danny a bad taste in his mouth, for some reason. He turned to face her, instead of looking at Leila's grave.

"What did you do to Peony?"

"I didn't do anything," she answered immediately.

They eyed each other for a moment. Danny was the first to look away, but it was only so he could take a deep breath and get himself under control.

"I am going to make myself clear. Peony and Briar are the only two people in town who might have an opinion of my character made valid by experience. Briar was taken care of because he's my best friend, and you knew they couldn't accept his words even if they were true. Peony was someone who could vouch for me. But she didn't. She denied me in front of the whole village, and has been hanging her head in shame every time she sees me since then. It hurt me more than I thought it would, but it's obviously been hurting her a lot more, and that is unacceptable. I should have been able to let it go, but in the past month I've realized she's a lot closer to me than I thought. So don't fuck with me, Perilla. What did you do to her?"

No amount of experience or warning would have prepared him for what happened then. Perilla's eyes started to size him up, and it wasn't because she was considering what he'd look like fresh out of the shower. She was assessing him from her position as Peony's older sister, and damn if he ever thought he'd end up under that magnifying glass. If he had been a swayable man, he might have been a little proud of her, because he'd have never believed she had it in her to be the watchdog for Peony. The impact drained when she still shook her head.

"I can't tell you. And before you get all pissed off, it's because I don't think Peony would want me to tell you. She's...sensitive about it."

"And you blackmailed her with it. Way to be sensitive, sis."

Perilla shrugged. "She didn't know I knew. I doubt she would ever have told me, because she doesn't trust me, and I doubt she would ever tell you because she respects you too much. One of those things, you know."

"No, I don't fucking know, and I'm going to ask her about it."

He turned to storm down the hill, but Perilla caught his scarf and stubbornly refused to let it go. When he started to unravel it, she latched on to his arm instead.

"Don't," she said softly. The humility in her voice gave him pause. "I don't care if you ask her, but don't be mad when she says she can't tell you. If you get mad at her, it will only hurt her more."

"What the hell am I supposed to do then," Danny snapped. "I can't keep watching her hang her head like that."

She let go of his arm. "Just forget about this. Maybe she'll let you know on her own."

He snorted, and stomped away. There were no such magical events as things suddenly being cleared up. It had been a month already, and Peony hadn't even dared to speak to him. To make matters worse, he didn't know how fix that.

And then it hit him. It bounced off the back of his head and left him cursing violently as it rolled away into the snow. He turned around, but if it was Perilla, she had wisely made herself scarce. He picked up half of the offending item: an apple, split right in half by the impact with his head.

_,you ass! _

That language, written in hideous chicken scratch, was certainly Perilla's. Where had she been hiding an apple? He looked around and found the other half. The full message was pretty thoughtful, for Perilla. He had to actively swat down the pride this time, but she'd earned it. He was very sure her whole reason for being there that night was this four-word message to him, for her sister's sake.

_Forgive her, you ass!_


	5. Winter Chapter 4

Briar whistled at the two halves sitting on the mantle. He was just as impressed as Danny had been. "Wouldn't believe it if the proof wasn't right here," he muttered. "I feel like we should preserve these or something."

Danny ignored his best friend, and continued to roughly towel dry his hair. Preservation was the last thing on his mind. As soon as he performed the command scribbled so crudely on their wrinkling skins, they were going in the trash, and the thought consuming him at the moment wasn't how to do that but rather... What shirt should he wear? He tossed his towel aside, conveniently managing to wrap it around Briar's head, and chose a black dress shirt. Sometimes, the classics were best. He had found that the residents of Mineral Town were not quite into being formal at events. It wasn't as though he expected tuxedos and cocktail dresses, but there was a distinct lack of style. Jeans and a dress shirt—Danny's choice for any special occasion, since he had a lean figure well-suited to the business casual look—were already more than Briar was contributing. He had a simple, white, long-sleeved shirt with a black vest that was more for function than aesthetics, and the same dull brown, awkwardly spiky mop of hair he always had. Admittedly, the kid could wear white better than any other male in town, but it was so close to his every day wear...

"Seven years going on eight," Danny sighed. "And the men of Mineral Town still have no class."

Briar tossed the towel back in Danny's face just as he was getting to the last button. He was smirking, as he always did when Danny dressed up. "You sure you're not gay, Dan?"

"Say what you want. I can see it all over your face that you'd jump my bones right here on the floor if I presented the opportunity."

Briar grimaced. "Your vanity never ceases to amuse me."

Danny grinned, tossed the towel into a corner, and pulled his hair back into its usual unassuming ponytail. He picked up the cigarette he'd left smoldering next to the apples, thought better of it, and lit a new one instead. "I prefer the term 'smug'."

They both laughed their way out the door.

New Year's Eve was the only time of year when every single resident turned up, and Danny was looking forward to it more than usual. It would be his fresh look at the people he'd lived with for seven years without actually getting to know them. Rosemary followed him to the edge of the farm, and barked once as if to say 'Have fun'. From there, people began showing up on the path that led to the trail up Mother's Hill. Some of them greeted Danny and Briar quite cordially. Staying low for so long had neutralized the effect of that embarrassing winter morning several weeks ago.

Pepper and Largo were strolling arm in arm, taking their time. They hadn't been in Mineral Town long, so the climb up to Mother's Hill still winded them. They would most likely be the last to arrive. Briar slowed down for a while, just to chat with them.

Danny stayed away on general principles. He intended to get to know people better over the next year, but tonight was strictly observation. Pepper was...Pepper. She went for the classy casual look of a pine green sweater dress and black leggings that complemented her skin and made her figure look more appealing than it actually was. Not that Pepper didn't need curves. She made up for a lack by being irresistibly affable. Largo was her opposite, a gangly redhead with eyes like robin's eggs. He had an accommodating demeanor from what Danny knew of him, but he suspected that Largo might have a mischievous streak that he hadn't encountered yet.

Briar caught up after giving Pepper a peck on the cheek and high-fiving Largo. The fore caught Danny's confused gaze, and winked.

He didn't ask.

The Wind Farm family was paying their respects to Leila's grave as they passed. The little girl remained as mismatched as ever, but her mother was dressed in a wool poncho and what looked like men's jeans. She was a big-boned woman with a round face and a wide mouth, but she had a severe look about her as she took note of them. To Danny's surprise, the girl sprinted toward them.

"Briar!" she sang, and jumped into his arms.

"Hey there, Winifred; Gale," Briar responded familiarly. "Have you been having a good winter?"

"Of course! I can't wait to come back to lessons when the weather warms up."

Danny cracked a smile despite himself. Briar had been fairly aimless when they first met. Loved to read, but his sister took the joy out of being at the library. He didn't know who had suggested Briar try teaching, but even though he was often unable and would have to leave it to the priest while he took care of things at the library, it was a good match. The children liked him as a teacher, and Briar loved to teach. During the winter, when the weather was often very poor, there were only Sunday lessons, but during the rest of the year, the lessons were every weekday and invariably, Briar would be in charge of them as he could.

Gale backtracked down to meet them, and Danny noticed that she was lighter on her feet than he was.

"Who's your friend, Briar?" Gale asked.

Danny stepped forward. He hated being introduced by others. "I'm Dan. I run the farm at the bottom of the hill. You had a shotgun trained on me about a week ago."

Gale laughed in a surprisingly effeminate way. "Good one. No hard feelings though, right? I've gotta look after my little one."

"Of course. I'd probably do the same if I had such a cute daughter."

Winifred pulled her lip up in what she probably thought was a scowl. "Don't try to flatter me. You're still not cool for making your girlfriend wait."

"That wasn't my girlfriend. I was expecting to be alone that night."

"But it was the Star Night festival!"

"Yes, it was."

"You didn't get invited anywhere?"

"No, I didn't."

Winifred's scowl disappeared. She looked on him with an honest sympathy instead, and took one of his hands. "It's okay. You can come to our house next year."

Danny grinned, and ruffled the girl's hat. "You're as charming as they come, Winifred, but I'm intending to have a lady friend who'll invite me by then. Wish me luck?"

He trotted to catch up with Briar, who had meandered a few feet further up the trail, and left Winifred pumping her fists wildly in an over-excited cheer.

Briar waved to them both. "Were you serious there, or doing that thing where you act cool and all the kids think you're amazing?"

"You were one of the kids that worked on," Danny teased. "No, I'm serious. I still think seventeen is pretty young for a girl to be getting married, but if I don't get in the game all the good ones will be taken by the time I start thinking they're ok."

"There'll always be Pepper. None of the other bachelors are brave enough to approach her."

"Count me in their ranks. I think plenty of them are interested, but Mineral town is good for undeclared social stigma and no one wants to catch that kind of attention."

Their discussion came to a sudden halt as they spotted Doc Sam ambling up the path adjusting the straightness of his back with every step. Sam was, to be blunt, a bizarre man. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that he had literally gone insane exploring the mysteries of the human body, and there wasn't a body in Mineral Town who didn't blame his great-grandmother Agatha for his peculiarities. Everything from the wild tufts of blonde hair to the perpetually puzzled gaze in his dark eyes served to unsettled the people around him. As they closed in and readied to pass him, he adjusted his huge, circular glasses and waved.

"Hello, Briar and recluse," he said absently. "Dan was your name, right?"

Danny nodded.

"Well, Dan recluse, I applaud your guts. They must be lovely. May I see them?"

"No."

"Darn... Ah, well. I applaud them anyway. Want to be my apprentice?"

"No!"

Sam slumped dejectedly, and continued to amble along when Dan and Briar passed him. In practice, Sam was lucid and likeable, though he sometimes got carried away. He was the kind of guy well-liked by children even though his forgetfulness coupled with his passion for good health made adults uneasy. When he wasn't working, he was a kite in the wind, ruled by his curiosity and without his professional tact to keep him from saying whatever came to his mind. It would be a lucky thing if the man ever got married, and though it was cruel to think so, a lot of the town was hoping he didn't sire another mind for Agatha to mold. They were ready for a milder kind of doctor.

They came around the final bend, and emerged at the peak of Mother's Hill, where the rest of the villagers had already gathered. The first to catch Danny's eye were the tavern sisters. They were rare girls in the town, only ever to be seen working at the tavern, climbing the trees near the spring, or at the clinic when they inevitably fell. They stuck together in a way that would put Peony and Perilla to shame. Both were well known tomboys, but they were very different girls.

Abigail, the older, had hair the color of carrots, curly, but plain and unassuming just like her father's. There was an undercurrent of ferocity in her that usually only surfaced when her sister was in danger, but despite that and the frosty blue of her eyes, she had her warm points.

Her little sister, Rain, had fine hair like freshly minted pennies, and her eyes were icy in more than just their color. Her demeanor was cold and unimpressed, more befitting of a ruthless CEO than a child. She was one of the few children in town that wasn't interested in Danny. It wasn't personal; she just wasn't easily impressed. Their father was the same way. He was overseeing two barrels that he had undoubtedly hauled up the mountain on his massive shoulders. He even had mugs prepared. To Dennis, beer was cheer.

At that point Danny was left alone while Briar trotted off to greet Rain, who rewarded him with slightly less indifference than she bestowed on others.

Pastor Dorian stood near the path with Farrah, Jacqueline, and Mark, the family who ran the supermarket. Mayor Adrien was also there, arm in arm with his wife Elizabeth. Aside from Farrah, they were all infamously afraid of heights, and wouldn't brave going any closer to the peak.

The pastor looked over. The sparkle in his eyes dimmed with sobriety, and his blonde head dipped forward almost imperceptibly. Danny nodded back as subtly but graciously as he could. He wasn't going to approach, but he hadn't forgotten that Pastor Dorian had taken his side, and that warranted recognition even if they weren't on speaking terms.

It was the best kept secret in town, theirs, because neither of them ever talked about it and did their very best to stay the hell away from each other. Everybody knew _something_ had happened between them, but no one could take a guess that wasn't pure conjecture. The fact that their distance seemed respectful instead of spiteful kept the guesses persistent, though.

Before anyone could try and haul them within range of one another, Danny continued up, until he stood at the highest point he could. All around were faces that were familiar, even if he didn't particularly know them.

There was Jasmine, lucid and standing with her mother, Bell, who always looked tired and beleaguered by what Danny suspected was her own daughter.

Esther and Helena stood together, both in surprisingly elegant dresses, one of white and one of black. Helena wasn't like Bell. She was a friendly and functional member of the town, but she had never quite been able to move on from the death of her husband, and she made it obvious everyday that she was still mourning.

Aden, Ace, and Rondo had reconciled since their split over Perilla, and were joking around with their mother, a muscular, hard-faced woman named Sydney, who took no shit from anybody. The boys did the work in the forge but she ran the business, and by her fist she had raised her boys into men. Her husband hadn't died in the typhoon, but some years prior in a forge accident.

Cecil was sitting near the edge of the mountain, having a sip of beer from Gene's mug. The kid was old enough to try it this year, and it was obvious he didn't like it, but he kept drinking it anyway. Gene laughed, and clapped him on the back. Danny grinned, but didn't poke fun at the surprisingly touching moment. Gene had no wife and no children, and Cecil was a puppy that had shown up on his doorstep. If he took pleasure in the kid's company, it was nothing for Danny to laugh at, especially since Cecil seemed to like Gene too.

The winery family was out in full force, as classy as ever. Teresa, the youngest, appeared holding hands with Van, the eldest. Tonight was one of those special nights, because the middle child, Vale, was out and about as well. For a girl of thirteen or fourteen, she was very stable and in control of herself. Shy, but only to the point of being demure rather than awkward, and observant enough to make people with secrets uncomfortable around her. Like her older brother, she had the black hair of her father, and though she kept it fairly short it added to her elegance. Vincent and Aya followed just behind their children, smug as snakes, and twice as proud. Who wouldn't be? They were the biggest family in town, the closest to being legitimately wealthy, and their children were treasures in their own right. Van was a good boy who was passionate about taking over the winery, and the girls were the types that made even the most stubborn bachelor want a daughter.

Fortunately, Danny had a sister back in the city, and he knew the other half. Someday soon, those girls were going to grow up and hell would break loose in that house.

Big, bulky Burdock was present; miner, logger, and botanist all rolled into one formidable man that nobody wanted to mess with. Though, by the way he responded when Winifred appeared, he was harmless. She had him whipped, and it wasn't much better that he immediately smothered Gale in affection, though her girlish reaction suggested there was a lot he didn't know about the Wind farm family.

Perilla was there, traveling without her shame as usual, and he didn't have to look much further to find Peony, wrapped up in a creamy leather coat lined with wool. She had unbraided her pigtails and let them down. It made her look older and prettier than usual, but it also made her look as cold and fragile as her mother had looked in her coffin. The thought stopped him cold, and suddenly the mild night seemed frigid. Could that possibly be it? Could she have discovered on some journey to the clinic that she had inherited that weakness of constitution that plagued the females of her family? Might she be slowly deteriorating, they way Leila had near the end of her life? It was too _early._

An elbow in his side interrupted his image of Peony slowly disintegrating into the snow. Imagination was a vice of his. It ran off without him every time, took all the worst turns, and usually left him helpless to do anything but watch the horror unfold in his head. Sometimes he was lucky, and someone called him back like Perilla had. She didn't say anything; she just kept about her business, leaving the two of them alone.

Clarity, he thought a bit shakily, was what he wanted between them. Knowing that, it was suddenly very easy to go to her side. She looked up at him, and he could see it. She wanted to undo it all. She just couldn't. After all this time, in the middle of the entire village, they were finally alone, and despite the noise, everything seemed quiet where they stood.

"It wasn't you," he said softly. "I get it. It wasn't a choice you got to make."

She nodded. "I'm sorry..."

"It's your sister who should be sorry, so don't apologize anymore... But do you promise you'll tell me sometime? I want to know what Perilla knows."

He felt her lock up beside him. She didn't say anything, and he didn't dare press the issue.

"Someday," she whispered with a very audible sniffle. "Maybe someday. Maybe not. It's so… I'm sorry."

Danny resisted the urge to hug her outright. Mineral town's motto was 'hands off what isn't yours' when it came to cross gender relations, even if Peony was the closest thing he had to a sister here. People bent or broke the unspoken rule left and right when they were among comfortable company, but this wasn't the right place to push the limits. It didn't stop him from gently ruffling her hair.

"Just tell me this," he added nervously. "It's not your health, is it?"

She looked at him with a red, tear-streaked face that had forgotten it was sad. Instead it was just confused. And then the clouds parted. She started to laugh, so hard that her last tears squeezed out onto her cheeks. She rubbed clumsily at them with her mittened hands, coating them with a fair share of other assorted fluids. Danny wasn't sure what he should think, though his feelings were a little hurt. His imagination had made him genuinely worried in the few minutes since he thought she might be ill. Maybe it showed on his face.

"I'm healthy," she assured him."Thanks for worrying about me, Danny."

His eyebrows were drawn together, and he thought he felt the tips of his ears getting hot. How had this ended in her making fun of him? He looked up at the stars, hoping she hadn't seen him looking so childish.

"Happy New Year, Peony."

"Mm. Happy New Year."


	6. Transition

Danny was too fast for the sunrise. His spirits had been excellent since New Year's Eve, and today was no different. He rose when the sky was still painting the gray blush of dawn on the horizon. A hot shower, a stretch to ready his muscles, and a warm-up jog to the stream for his morning drink, and he was ready for another day. Rosemary trotted at his side with her tail held high, as ready for work as her boy was.

The rooster crowed. Spring was on the wind.

As a rule, Danny allowed his field to get a little messy during the winter. It was too cold to be swinging tools anywhere but the mines, though he did make sure to gather up any stray wood. When spring crept up, and the first shoots of grass started to appear, he didn't explode with the need to do something. It wasn't warm enough yet to plant seeds, but it wasn't too early to do the several-day job of tilling and rebuilding the fences around the pasture and getting all the stones and debris out of the field. After that, there would be planning to do. Most people would put the crops that grew the fastest at either the front or back end of the field, but Danny hated seeing the gap when it came time to harvest them. He had long since stopped planting a little of everything. He was well established enough to plant what he wanted, and use the rest of his land for crops the town might need.

This year, Danny was thinking strawberries; fat, juicy, sweet ones that would attract aphids and all kinds of similarly bothersome pests. He'd also plant a nice big patch of moondrops for the honey bees nesting in the old tree by the fish pond. He thought merrily of the ladybugs he had sheltered in the greenhouse over the winter, after there had been a mysterious population surge last fall. Whole generations had died since, but there were still enough to get the jump on the aphids this year. Given a few months, the dragonflies would reappear to deal with the other pests. It gave him something to grin about while he fed and watered the animals, and replaced the hay that coated the floor of the chicken coop. The old, coated in ammonia-rich excrement, was bundled up and dropped in a bin to decompose; fertilizer for a later season.

When he left the barn, he headed straight for the fish pond. He had filled it with the biggest trout he could catch, and it was easy to fish one out. At his whistle, Rosemary came and took the fish from his hands. She carried it as gently as she would carry her own pup, and they trotted to the house together to make breakfast of it. Briar had once observed this peculiarity in Danny's schedule. Fact was, he just couldn't bring himself to eat as soon as he woke up. It made him nauseous; but he wasn't a fool. Fieldwork never began before breakfast, and he was always ready to wolf it down after taking care of his livestock. This morning was no exception. The fish and eggs that filled his plate one moment vanished in the next. He glanced at his tobacco can, but he hadn't been smoking much recently. There were no cigarettes he had idly rolled and forgotten, and he wasn't any more in the mood to roll one than he was to smoke. The plate and Rosemary's dish went in the sink, left for a later hour, while Danny picked his hammer from the toolbox and stepped out whistling.

"Somebody's happy."

Danny waved, and went to the fence to see Briar. The kid wasn't dressed much differently than usual, but he had on his good shoes, and his hair was done. Today wasn't one of those days when he would stroll through the dirt and the mud like always. Today was the day the lessons resumed, and Briar took his students' impression of him seriously.

"What brings you by so early? You don't usually visit me in the morning."

Briar pointed to the far end of the field, and Danny squinted against the rays coming through the trees. The first thing he could make out was Winifred's hat. It didn't look quite as out of place as it had all winter. She was skipping down the path, and didn't even bat a lash when she crossed the stream bridge onto Danny's property.

"Good morning, sir."

Danny raised a brow. 'Sir' was an unusually respectful term considering he had been 'mister' almost all winter. Briar smiled. "Winifred's old enough to go to school without Gale walking her now, but we decided it wouldn't be any good for her to go through the woods toward the square. Gale seemed to have a good opinion of you so… Do you mind, Danny?"

A little girl passing through every day? Well, it'd make things more interesting, but a farm wasn't exactly a safe place for a little girl, even if she was just passing through. Winifred was most definitely a farm girl, but she didn't deal with the kind of things he did. She dealt in maintenance and grease-monkey chores with things that didn't move, if Gale allowed her to deal with anything at all. Unpredictable animal behavior—and it was always unpredictable, as Danny knew from experiences he didn't care to discuss—would inevitably get her hurt. He glanced back down at her. Was he supposed to be able to use that kind of common sense when she had her face all scrunched up in an effort to look like a sensible, responsible young lady? Probably, but he was weak. He crossed his arms. "Stick to the path, don't play around, and if the horses are running about, make sure you stay out of their way. Got it?"

Her head bobbed so quickly she nearly lost her hat to the breeze. "Of course! I'll go straight to school and straight home. I promise!"

He smiled. "Alright then. I'll look forward to seeing you."

A bright smile filled Winifred's face. She passed him by at a dash, and the last thing he saw was her blue dress bouncing as she skipped by the library. Briar didn't stick around to chat, but thanked Danny on Gale's behalf before heading for the church.

Alone again, Danny resumed his merry whistling, swung his hammer up over his shoulder, and went about his business.

Just as promised, Winifred showed up later in the afternoon, and she went studiously from Danny's doorstep straight to the bridge with her face scrunched up in concentration. The following day she passed through just as studiously, and again the next day, and again the next. When the week came to a close, she was still dead serious about the process of not deviating from the path, and her only stops were to say hello if Danny was nearby. The weekend passed and Monday came, and she hadn't loosened up. Despite his impression of her as audacious and a little bossy, she seemed aware that she was responsible for keeping her end of the bargain. He leaned on the handle of his hammer, taking a break from pounding new fence stakes in to watch her head home from Monday classes, he pondered if going to school by himself for the first time had been as serious. _Probably_, he thought, but Winifred had a bit more at stake. He had started going to school alone because his parents couldn't be bothered with dropping him off anymore. For her, if something went wrong or she took it too lightly, she could end up being walked to school for another year. Gale was the type who would do that, even if her daughter got such an obvious thrill out of independence.

As the days passed, Danny stopped taking note of her presence a sharply as he had. This was, in some small part, an act of respect to show he recognized how seriously she was taking his words, but mostly he had other things on his mind.

Like strawberries. Fat, juicy, sweet strawberries.

Over the years, the time to sow seeds had become less something he watched the date for and more something he felt in the scent and direction of the wind and the way the sun felt on his shoulders. According to that sense, and the fact that the morning frost disappeared for several days—again, Danny was no fool and believed in supplementing his instincts—he tentatively began to till and sow his seeds. In the high afternoon as he was planting the last seeds, he even found himself sweating, and it wasn't just from the work.

"Danneeee!"

Oh God. That voice. His heart. He stopped mid-swing, and braced himself otherwise he'd definitely turn into butter.

Teresa was standing politely at the fence, with her usual sugary smile. She was wearing an ankle-length powder blue dress with a dark blue petticoat, and because he parents believed in good impressions, they had pinned her hair up in a simple bun on the side of her head and adorned it in flowers.

Her brother, whom Danny honed in on to keep from biting through his cheek in an effort not to make some kind of delighted squeal, was decked out in a much darker blue. With a muffler. A muffler, of all things. The pair reminded him of private school kids, the kind that went to super prestigious religious academies. Maybe it was just the blue…

"Hello there," he said, trotting over to the fence. "How can I help you?"

Van bowed his head politely. "I'm here to make sure my sister meets Ms Winifred and Mrs—"

Teresa pouted, and gave her brother's sleeve a reproachful tug. "Van, Danny's very nice! You don't have to be so formal around him. Just give him the seeds. He plants and cares for whatever you ask without asking for money."

Danny laughed. "Sorry to have to say it Teresa, but the only things that're free are things that go in the flower patch."

Van blushed slightly. "They _are_ flowers…"

"Van wants them grown big and pretty so he can ask a Jasmine to the Goddess Festival!"

Danny meant to stay cool about it, but he could feel his eyebrows all but jump off his face. Van's eyebrows didn't fare much better, and he blushed to the roots of his hair. Teresa beamed between them, completely unaware that she'd said anything controversial at all. Child logic.

A sharp whistle from the other side of the farm interrupted the awkward silence. Gale and Winifred were strolling over to them, just as quick and sharp as if it were a school day. Teresa all but hopped in place, too polite to simply open the gate and cross without Danny's permission. She bounced like an excited puppy right up to the moment Winifred opened the gate from the other side. Seeing them so giddy together was enough to distract Danny from the awkward staring match with Van. Teresa, all frills and flowers and finery and fashionable hairstyles, sweet and polite and refreshingly ignorant of the adult aspects of the situations she seemed to find herself in… Like knowing her brother was interested in the library girl who just happened to be the town druggie. And then there was Winifred, pretty in a plain way; practical and precocious and as energetic as a sunflower in midsummer.

"Lookin' good, Dan." Gale clapped him on the shoulder, only to quickly wipe her hand on her jeans. He was still sweaty. "Thought I'd come down to thank you for letting Winnie pass through these past two weeks. I trust she's been good?"

Add to Winifred's resume: a pragmatic mother who knew how to jam "She told me that she has been very good, and I trust her, but I'm asking you as the adult and I'll raise hell right here if there's a discrepancy" into a five word question.

"She's been very diligent," Danny answered carefully. "She sticks to the path, never loiters or gets distracted, and she minds the horses."

Gale's severe face cleared into a satisfied smile. "Glad to hear it. Here, a token of appreciation from me and Burdie. Come on, little ducklings. Van, we'll see you Sunday."

They disappeared back toward Mother's Hill, leaving Danny to think… _Burdie? For real?_ He couldn't help but remember that near maidenly reaction she had to her husband. Trying to dismiss the strangely pubescent relationship Gale had with her husband left Danny back to problem one. Alone with Van in an awkward silence. Now with a box of what was probably cookies from Gale.

He took the dive. "Jasmine, huh?"

Bad move. Van heard judgment, even though there wasn't any. "Going to point out the obvious, farmer?"

"I'll let that go, and make myself a bit clearer. This is the closest thing this town has to a class-transcending romance. I wanna know how that came about."

Van raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Then you've nothing to say about her…problems?"

"I'll be honest. As long as I don't catch her growing her shit behind my barn, I don't care." Danny caught the grimace. Typical pampered kid, not used to coarse language. "Fact is you like her enough to ask her to the dance, despite her problems. And obviously… You're already prepared to hear everyone clucking 'BUT SHE'S ON DRUGS!'"

The blush crept back in. "I…apologize for making that assumption of you."

"Teresa had it right, Van. You don't have to be that formal with me. Remember, I'm a city kid at heart. I had to learn to read people as quickly and accurately as possible. Anybody'd get defensive in your position."

"I see… I see." He pulled a tiny velvet pouch, eerily fancy for containing things that were going in the ground, from his pocket. "Then, will you plant these for me?"

Danny gave up on seeing his question answered. Probably too personal. He wasn't very good with those kinds of boundaries. "Sure thing. They need any special care?"

"No," he said wistfully. "She always said narcissus was a strong flower that could take care of itself… Thank you, sir. Good day."

Danny was left with the bag and a slowly forming idea of how Van had ended up interested in Jasmine. And the box. From Gale and _Burdie._

Later that night, when both the flowers and the strawberries were all safely planted, he sat out on the porch in the chill spring night. Gale and Burdock had not, in fact, given him cookies. Inside the box was a single stainless steel tobacco case. The best part? It was full, and not with the cheap stuff Danny kept stocked in case an emergency rose and he needed to chain smoke vigorously just to stay sane. Three cigarettes worth of flue-cured burley tobacco filled that case. He figured it would be rude to not try it immediately, but he was going to savor the rest of this particular windfall. The smoke swirled in thick curls instead of thin wisps, but that had little to do with the tobacco. He closed his eyes. Over the scent of the burning tobacco, the air smelled of dark soil and fertilizer and humid air. The crisp, clear smell of winter was gone. It started to rain, the first of spring.

He smiled to himself. _Spot on._


	7. Spring Chapter 1

The rains continued as they always did in spring. A shower here, a sprinkle there, a partly sunny day just to remind people there was in fact a sun, and one major cloudburst on a particularly warm, humid weekend. It was a good sign. With just two days left before the Goddess Festival, it seemed like the clouds were trying to wring themselves out so that good weather would prevail. The more it rained, the more it seemed like the bad air leftover from winter just seeped into the ground and disappeared, replaced by the same giddy anxiety that always came with that particular time of year. All the young women were waiting to be asked to the festival, and all the young men were working themselves up to do the asking.

Danny wasn't expecting to do any asking, but he was in a good mood none-the-less. The sun was peeking out between sparse drizzle, and he had taken the opportunity to go into town and do his shopping. Spring had a peculiar effect on him, and it did not escape Farrah's notice.

"Dan, you're a good customer, but if you keep smiling at the flour, I'm going to insist you buy it and settle down with it."

He looked up at her with a wide-eyed, perfectly naïve expression. "But if I settle down with the flour, Wilder will get jealous."

She scowled, and made herself busy checking something behind the register, and he bit his cheek to hold in a laugh. Farrah's relationship with him was entirely peripheral to her goals, and he knew it. Farrah looked up to Wilder, who just happened to be one of Danny's best customers. When Farrah had realized this two years ago, she had made a point of coming to Danny's farm every summer to carry the harvest to port. It provided them with enough common ground to be friends, but they were more like friendly enemies.

Wilder was only there in summer, and spent a lot of time buying and selling and occasionally getting into very long, very heated, and very drunk haggling wars with Danny. They were already on very good terms with each other, while Farrah, who admired Wilder more than anyone else usually couldn't say anything more than hello without turning as red an apple.

That made her easy to tease during the rest of the year.

"Promise not to overcharge me?"

She made a point of not looking at him. "The cashier must always be impartial."

All silly teasing aside, Danny was fond of Farrah. The girl was no one but herself. She was that girl-next-door type; hair and eyes the color of a newborn deer, handsome instead of pretty, too savvy to be traditionally wholesome, just savvy enough to stay out of any real trouble, and snarky enough to be interesting. Even if she was born in the city, he couldn't imagine she'd have been very different.

"Hey," she called, snapping him out of his daydream by sitting his grocery-filled bag between them. "Same rule applies to me that applies to the flour."

He blinked innocently. If he knew how to blush on command, he would have. "Why, Farrah… Did you just ask me to—?"

"I didn't ask you anything. Pay for your stuff."

He handed the money over with a game grin. "You're so quick to shut me down. Could it be…you've been asked to the Goddess Festival and you don't want any gossip to ruin a good date?"

"Says the guy who hasn't asked a girl to the festival since he got here." She handed him his change and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Largo's escorting me."

"_Really_ now?"

"Yes, because it's so interesting that he would ask me, the one girl from town he knows best." She crossed her arms. "Pepper opted out of learning the dance, and despite his quirks, Largo does like social activities. It's a bit like I'm the one escorting him."

Danny thought about making some kind of second-best joke, but quickly let it go. Best not to press so many of her buttons all at once.

"Remember to have him home by curfew."

"Yes, _Dad_."

He left with a grin and a wave. It was drizzling again, so he kept under the ledge above the storefront and waited for it to pass. The town bell signaled two 'o clock. He could hear children laughing in the distance, and Teresa passed him at a trot under a frilly white umbrella, making sure to bob her head in a polite greeting. Common courtesy first.

The sun peeked out, but the drizzle didn't die down for almost half an hour. Danny took the opportunity as soon as it came, dashing to keep the flour dry. As soon as he got to the gate, he was assaulted by the sound of Rosemary's frantic barking. After so many years with her, he knew by the pitch that whatever it was needed his attention as soon as possible. He didn't stop to put the groceries away, just hurled them onto the porch and ran to the other side of the field. It was worse than he thought.

A _lot _worse.

Winifred had collapsed in the mud just on the other side of the bridge. She couldn't have been there long, but her hat was nowhere to be found, and she might as well have been laying there forever. She was frigid when he picked her up, but her face was bright red, and it was obvious she was ill.

"Mmgph…?"

She coughed messily, spewing mud that had seeped into her mouth and nostrils. She was breathing and that was relief enough for Danny. He carried her back to the front end of the farm, and sat her on the porch. It wasn't a long trip, but it was starting to rain again, and it was the least he could do to grab his jacket to wrap her in.

"_Oh my God!"_

He dashed back out, dreading the explaining this would need, but it was only Peony. She had a package under her arm, and was standing there frozen to the spot. "I…p-package for Dan…W-winifred…!"

"Yeah, I know," he said gruffly, wrapping the child and taking the moment to clear the mud out of her face and mouth. When he turned and Peony was still standing there motionless, he snapped at her. "Don't just stand there like a goat! Run up Mother's Hill and tell Gale I've taken Winifred to the clinic!"

She ran off obediently with the package still under her arm.

Danny lifted Winifred and dashed with all his strength. He understood that Winifred was fine. She was all there, clinging to his overalls and clearly disgusted with the mud on her face and hair and the lingering taste of it in her mouth. She was just sick, and maybe a little exhausted from trekking back and forth to school in less-than-stellar weather. But he couldn't help but compare this situation to finding Leila in the snow, and it lent him the dangerous haste only panic could bestow. He found himself mentally chanting '_I'll make it this time._'

He rammed his shoulder into the door of the clinic, and it flew open hard enough to bang into the wall behind it. The startled, angry faces of Nurse Esther and Doc Sam poked around the curtains, followed by the heads of Abigail and Van.

"Don't just stand there," Danny groaned. "I've got a sick kid in my arms!"

That was all it took for Danny to be excused. Doc Sam walked straight up to Danny to assess Winifred's condition and ask what exactly had happened, and by the time he had the story, Nurse Esther had a fresh gown, and a tin tub of steaming water with a washcloth in it set up beside Abigail's bed. Danny set her down, and was quickly shooed away so they could clean Winifred up and put her in warm clothes. From the other side of the curtain, he could hear Winifred crying softly.

Abigail wormed her way out at Esther's suggestion. She was in for scrapes as usual, and being exposed to farm mud probably wasn't the best idea. She looked Danny right in the eye, and he almost took a step back.

"Did you tell Gale?" she demanded.

"I sent Peony up to get her," he answered warily. He had never been so close to her. She had a stare like a wild dog. "She should be down here soon."

"Good." She softened up, but rather than being personable, it seemed to make her self-conscious. She was visibly groping for something to say. "Rain likes Winifred."

Danny could stand up for himself no problem, say exactly what he meant, and hold a conversation just like any other person, but only when faced with another reasonably normal person. Abigail, he now knew, was one of those awkward ones with awkward body language and awkward things to say that completely scrambled his social radars, and left him just as communicatively inept as they were.

"That's…nice?" he tried.

Abigail glared. She seemed to think he was mocking her. "I don't want to have to say Winifred's seriously ill or somethin'."

Doc Sam dismissed the thought with the wave of a syringe. "It's not serious, just the average spring bug. Vale's got the same thing. If it gets bad it just sucks the energy right out of you, and Winifred… Well, sometimes she forgets she's just a kid."

Van leaned away from the erratic motion with a grimace. "Can you not wave that around, doctor?"

"Oh, right right. Your sister's medicine is all done. I'll have Esther bring it over as soon as she's done with Winifred, so don't feel compelled to hang around here." He looked down at the mud and filthy water Danny had tracked on the tile. "Germs and such."

Van stopped beside Danny, and it took him a moment to realize that was Van's way of being discrete. Poor, tightly-wound bastard. "Come by tomorrow morning around 8. Bring your girl with you."

He could tell Van was upset with those conditions, but the guy wasn't about to argue over it in a clinic full of people. He took his leave, and Abigail took the opportunity to scuttle out behind him. Danny could have followed, but he had no intention of leaving before Gale arrived. Winifred was still sniffling softly, and Esther was only then getting her into the gown and under the covers, so he made himself useful and cleaned up the mess he'd made when he entered.

Naturally, Gale arrived just as thunderously as he had right as he finished, with Peony tiptoeing a little more timidly onto the floor behind her. Both of them were flushed and breathing hard, but Gale looked about ready to wreck the place while Peony…was wearing Winifred's raincoat over her head and still hadn't put down the package.

"Where is my _daughter_?" Gale demanded.

Danny and Doc Sam pointed wordlessly at the corner bed, and right on cue, Esther pulled the curtain back to give Gale a direct line of sight. None of them wanted to even look like they were in her way. She stormed over to the bed without regard for the men and immediately drilled Esther for details on Winifred's condition. The medicine had already been administered, including a little preventative shot just in case the farm mud—or any of the goodies that tended to lurk in farm mud—had gotten into her system, her clothes were in the dryer, and once they were done, she was alright to go home. Supervised, of course.

"You're darn right 'supervised'!" She turned to her daughter, furious tears in her eyes. "What were you _thinking_, Winifred? I asked you if you were feeling alright this morning and you told me you were fine!"

Winifred shriveled pitifully into the bed, so distressed that she had to weather a coughing fit before she could say anything. "I didn't want toworry you… I thought I could make it home by myself…"

"Obviously not! I will be accompanying you to and from school again starting tomorrow. You can try this again next year."

A muffled sob forced its way out of Winifred, but she conceded with a quiet, defeated 'yes, ma'am'. Danny couldn't take it.

"Gale…" he said in the least challenging tone he could find. "Please give her a second chance."

"No," she answered. "She's got to learn to be responsible."

"I know. But she was being responsible. For the first few weeks I made absolutely sure I was there when she passed through my farm, just to make sure she did what she promised. You know kids, they get curious and go where they're not supposed to and they dally when they should hurry. Winifred never did any of that. Every day in coming or going, she scrunched up her face, kept her eyes focused on her path, and kept it moving. She's serious about this Gale. So serious that it's actually kind of funny."

"_This_ is _not_ funny."

"No, it isn't, but this happened because she really is comically serious. She wants to be seen as mature and capable. She wants to take care of herself instead of being fussed over. Winifred, am I getting this right at all?" The girl nodded vigorously. "She just wants it so bad that, like the doctor said earlier, she sometimes forgets that she's still just a kid and her body's pretty susceptible. And I'm gonna go out on a limb here…and say this is also your fault, and my fault, and possibly Briar's fault."

"No!" Winifred shouted, fresh tears welling in her eyes at the thought of her teacher getting into trouble over her. "Briar asked me if I was alright! He—_cough cough_—! He noticed I was sick but I told hi-_cough cough cough—!"_

"But you told him you'd be alright," Danny finished. "But he knows you, and he should have known you'd be pushing yourself, and Gale probably knew you were pushing yourself, and I should have been waiting for you like I used to so that I could notice you were pushing yourself. Can you deny that, Gale?"

She couldn't. She wanted to, because mothers were always in that delicate position when their children went after independence. It was easier on them to supervise everything they did, rather than respect their attempts at maturity and hope it didn't end like this.

"I think," Danny began. "That it would be best in this particular case to give her a second chance, only this time, with some understandings. The adults have to understand that as a kid, even one who's trying her best to be mature, you're bound to get yourself into trouble, and we should be looking out for you, even if it's from a distance, instead of just leaving you to your own devices. Winifred, you should understand that you are young, and you can't quite bulldoze through the world on willpower alone yet. Even adults want to be fussed over a little when they're sick."

Winifred nodded respectfully and turned pleading eyes to her mother.

Gale ruffled her daughter's hair, but she was looking at Danny. "She could do this kind of thing again. Then I'd have to come after you."

"I'd have it coming I guess, but Winifred's a good kid, and she's doing her best to be strong and independent like her mom. I'll take the risk."

Gale smirked. "You're so full of crap we could use you for fertilizer."

For a tense moment, Danny thought she was going to dismiss him and his argument, but she chuckled and shook her head. She closed the curtain to be alone with her daughter, but he vaguely heard her calling someone a rather colorful name, and it probably wasn't Winifred.

Esther, who gravitated toward Peony as soon as the debate started so that she could watch from a safe distance, and take Winifred's coat, finally posed a question that had been bothering her more than anything else about the situation. "Why are you carrying a package from a florist, Peony?"

Peony nearly dropped it. She'd forgotten she was carrying it at all. "Florist? I don't know, it's not mine. It's for Dan but then when I went to his farm to give it to him, Winifred was there, and then I had to go get Gale and run back down with her." She cocked her head. "Why did you order flowers Dan?"

"They're not for me."

He thought he saw something flicker in her expression, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Or maybe he just couldn't believe it was what his gut told him it was. She handed them over with the perfect poker face, and it made the hairs on his neck stand up. It was the kind of observant, unreadable face people used to read food labels or inspect the freshness of vegetables before they chose which they wanted. He pushed the package back into her hands.

"Could you bring it by tomorrow morning around 8?"

She tilted her head curiously, but nodded none-the-less. "See you tomorrow then, I guess?"

Esther caught Peony by the shoulder. "Don't say your goodbyes just yet. You ran up Mother's Hill and back, and I'm not going to let you go until you go without a quick check-up and a cup of tea."

Danny took that as a hint to leave, and made his way back home. Rosemary greeted him at the gate, and danced anxiously around his legs like someone who had remained in the waiting room during a surgery, and was desperate to hear the result. He rubbed her side calmly, and gave her an easy smile, as he usually did when a crisis was averted. It would satisfy her for now, but she would continue to watch his face and wait to see if he smoked before she was truly content. The dog knew him well.

On his porch, the bag of groceries still rested half-crumpled where he'd thrown it, and he approached it with a welling disgusted certainty. The bag of flour had partially erupted, much as he suspected, and most of his other items were now gratuitously powdered. He sighed, and Rosemary seemed to squint suspiciously at him for it, but he ignored her and disappeared into the house to clean it up and salvage what flour he could.

* * *

The next morning's sky was decidedly overcast. It was likely to be a day of miserable on and off cloudbursts, but the morning was relatively dry. When Van showed up with Jasmine in tow, he hadn't even bothered to bring an umbrella. Although, that could have been because he was so busy fussing with Jasmine.

"Just come on," he pleaded. "It's a surprise."

"What are we doing here?" she whined. "Danny is scary!"

Danny reflexively sucked in, but there was no cigarette in his mouth and the hiss cut through the damp of the air.

"Don't call me that," he warned. "Don't you _ever_ call me that."

She hid behind Van. She might have been trembling, or she might have started crying; he couldn't tell. It was hard to say if she was lucid and genuinely terrified of him, or if she was already on another planet where he was a bridge troll.

"Nice job making her comfortable around you," Van sighed.

Danny smiled wryly. "Oh, she's had reason to fear me for a long time. For me it was just one of those things, but she's probably never forgotten."

The air changed. Van leered suspiciously at Danny. "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her. Like I said, it was just one of those things, and it was between me and Briar. We were young, she put some bullshit in his head, and he was the closest I had to a friend I had at the time, so I was understandably pissed off, and I went about fixing it the only way I knew how. She's treated me like a boogeyman ever since." He smiled brightly. "I had a temper back then."

Now it was Van's turn to use a cautionary voice. "Why'd you ask me to bring her knowing she's terrified of you?"

"To get some kind of reading on you two." He stepped whimsically down the few steps to the ground. "I don't think I've spoken to Jasmine in years, not counting the incident with Perilla, and you… Well, you're usually busy, and you're a little on the uptight side. Seeing you now… Putting yourself in the way of anything that might harm her and how ready you were to rebel against the social stigma last time… I'm gonna say she's the childhood friend you admired, but once she started to abuse her knowledge, the Mineral Town unspoken social rules stunted your friendship. Somewhere along the way, you realized you had feelings for the girl that existed before the drugs, and now you spend your time trying to bring her back."

Van didn't answer, but Danny didn't need him to. Jasmine was staring with an expression of stunned realization, and Van was blushing. That was more honest than anything that could have been said.

"Cute." He tossed the boy a tiny green sprout. It could have been a part of any plant at all. "I support your cause, and maybe you were trying to do something nostalgic here, but that's your narcissus. You gave me seeds, Van. They'll be there for at least two years before you see any flowers, and realistically the plants themselves might not survive if spring is too warm too soon this year. You came to me way too late for me to have even gotten away with planting bulbs. Lucky for you…" He glanced beyond them, to his gate. "I happen to be good with the florist on the mainland."

Van and Jasmine glanced over their shoulders only to see Peony standing just inside the gate with the still wrapped package in her arms. She looked nervously at Danny, and he gave her a confident nod. Van took the package from her, and peeled the delicately wrapped brown paper away. Yellow and white daffodil heads bounced gamely atop bright green stalks gently bound together with delicate wreaths of Queen Anne 's lace, and a few spikes of purple heather.

"How masterfully done…" Van whispered.

"If you like the aesthetics, thank the florist. All I said was daffodils."

Van turned to Jasmine, and she was actually coherent enough to realize what was about to happen. They stood there a moment, looking straight at one another for what might have been the first time in years for all Danny knew. Both wore a strangely innocent blush. They could have been middle school children confessing for the first time. A beautiful scene might have unfolded on Danny's lawn that morning, but Van's sense of decorum saved him. He remembered before he said anything embarrassing that Danny and Peony were still there and quickly excused himself and Jasmine. They headed toward town…and immediately Van thought better of that and turned back to head toward Mother's Hill, where it wouldn't be quite so busy, muttering a second 'excuse me' with mounting blush before he darted to the other end of the farm and disappeared over the bridge.

Peony picked up a piece of the wrapping paper that had fallen from Van's arms in his haste, and stepped closer to Danny, still peering at the far end of the farm. "Why'd you do all that?"

Danny shrugged. "I like the drama."

"Liar." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You can't stand drama."

"Maybe I think its okay when I'm playing matchmaker."

"You don't like matchmaking either, Danny…"

"Fine, you caught me. I just felt like messing with him. I'm a lovable social sadist like that."

She frowned, and gave him the same temporarily appeased look Rosemary would have. Peony knew he liked to do things just because he could sometimes, but…she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he had a legitimate, perhaps even touching reason to have gone so far out of his way for the most unlikely couple in town. She looked down at the paper, and noticed a tiny white card.

"Daffodils for chivalry…?" she read aloud.

"For those people who think of flowers as having any kind of inherent meaning." He climbed back onto his porch. "Thanks for the delivery, Peony."

"Wait!" She scooted as close as she dared to the steps without actually climbing them. "Please escort me to the Goddess Festival!"


End file.
